


the book of love (is long and boring)

by sophiahelix



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: 5 Things, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21649003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiahelix/pseuds/sophiahelix
Summary: Yuzu’s not really as soft as he looks, other than this one place. What’s between them isn’t as soft as it seems either; it’s absurd to have those six hard years feel so easy now, just a few turned pages in a longer book.(or, five versions of January 2019)
Relationships: Javier Fernández/Yuzuru Hanyu
Comments: 74
Kudos: 184





	1. we’re talking two different oceans

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [the book of love (is long and boring)/爱之书（冗长且乏味）](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27129410) by [Emerald_Ocean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerald_Ocean/pseuds/Emerald_Ocean)

> “Finally” doesn’t even cover it for me with this work; I’ve been working on pieces of it for over a year, and the first draft sat all summer. The week before the GPF seemed like a great time to aim for posting, so it’ll go up a chapter a day between now and Yuzu’s birthday. 
> 
> The initial concept was a 5 things fic set during January 2019, which seemed like it was going to be Javi’s last training stint at the club. Each chapter is therefore a stand-alone, and for the purposes of this story, please assume that, like me, Yuzu did not expect Javi to come back in September. :D
> 
> Thanks so much to someitems for both the editing and all the discussion on this story since last fall, because it definitely wouldn’t have been finished without your encouragement. 
> 
> Work title from [the Magnetic Fields song](https://open.spotify.com/track/6UGpcXcENaUqQKPc6oqOe4?si=Sv0tr213TZaV4-ybjccDmg). Rating for some chapters is E, but not the entire story.
> 
> Belatedly, [a playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/1213042115/playlist/64b7dYWOFofxhtr6cIcCuc?si=sqSpsDRxS3yGkVe5SMOJrgLL) for the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title source: [5748 km by Lisa LeBlanc](https://open.spotify.com/track/4LXi58nLKicjAC0emPq43l?si=Q79whvwdR6OgF0-kSHtuLQ)

Yuzu has always meant to give Javi back his pullover. When he found it on the floor of the club’s changing room and recognized the soft grey fleece as one that Javi wore all the time, it was natural to pick it up. He'd bring it to Boston next week, he thought, and give it back there.

That was almost three years ago, and Yuzu still has the pullover. With all the confusion and stress at Worlds that year it never made it out of his suitcase, and he has to admit that after losing the title again, a part of him didn't feel like doing Javi any favors. Back home in Japan, a guilty pang went through him when he unpacked, seeing something of Javi’s there where it didn't belong. It was just an old fleece, with almost nothing to distinguish it except the small black embroidered UCAM logo on one side, but it was intimately familiar, bringing back so many memories.

Yuzu brought the soft fabric up to his face and breathed it in, and that was familiar too. Sweat, deodorant, the sharp metallic scent of the rink and something he'd smelled on Javi before, musky and rich. Like being embraced by Javi, held close in his arms.

He closed his eyes against the shiver that went through him, and put it away.

Yuzu spent most of that summer rehabbing his foot injury and longing for ice in the humid heat. Javi’s fleece went back into the box for Toronto, but somehow he never got around to giving it back. That season was tough, working on the quad loop, all his concentration on winning back his title and setting himself up for the Olympic season.There was no particular reason he kept forgetting to bring the pullover to the rink, except — 

Yuzu finally put it on, one chilly November evening. Not thinking much, except for wondering if it was warmer than his own sweatshirt, or maybe he just wasn’t letting himself think about it. The fleece was soft and worn, old and comfortable. It still smelled like Javi, and peace went through Yuzu, making him sigh as he settled it over his body.

He wrapped his arms around himself, and then went back to the paper he’d been writing.

All that season, Yuzu wore the fleece at night. Javi missed out on the podium in Marseilles, and then in Helsinki that spring. It was a shock both times, given the competitions he’d won in between, but Yuzu didn’t think about that much either. They were training partners, brothers at the rink, but Yuzu had his own career to worry about and they were rivals, too. At the end of the day, better Javi than him. 

Yuzu started wearing the pullover around the house after he got hurt the next year, in the Olympic season. It was just an old fleece he took out of the closet sometimes, trancelike, a deluge of relief cascading down as he pulled it over his head. Yuzu felt good when he was wearing it, safe, and the worries buzzing at the back of his mind faded for a while. It was pleasantly like something he wasn’t quite supposed to be doing, and when he leaned back and tucked his hands in the pockets Yuzu always closed his eyes and smiled, appreciating this little thrill of transgression in his stable life.

He slept in it in Pyeongchang, the night before the free skate. By then it was his lucky charm, smelling mostly like himself, with just a faint lingering scent of cologne from before. It would have to be washed, if he ever gave it back, but he didn’t really think about that anymore. 

(Except late at night, lying in bed wrapped in familiar softness, remembering who the fleece really belonged to. Wondering what Javi would think if he knew. Drifting to sleep, letting the fragments of strange thoughts make his heart race, things he’d only half-remember tomorrow morning before he turned his mind firmly away.)

The pullover came home last spring, and now it's coming back to Toronto. Yuzu puts it on for the final flight between LA and Toronto, where there are no cameras to see him arrive. His mother doesn’t say anything about an old worn fleece that’s a little too big on him. Somehow he's carried this through everything, these last few years, until it became a part of his life, tactile and real.

He brings it to Helsinki but forgets to pack it for Moscow, and he knows it isn't rational but that's the first thing he thinks of, feeling his ankle ache and swell beneath the ice strapped to it after his fall at the rink. _I left my luck behind, and this is what happens._

Yuzu goes home for a while after that. He needs doctors and specialists, but most importantly he wants some time away, a break and a reset, getting over the maddening frustration of yet another season derailed by injury. He plays games, catches up on schoolwork, sees friends and family, tries to let go. It's the afterthought season, the one no one cares about; so many skaters are retiring or just taking it off to rest. Yuzu always feels like things should be different for him, like he's held to a higher standard, but he has to adjust to reality. He was dominating again and now he's back here, moving from crutches to rehab to slowly thinking about the ice.

When he can’t stand it anymore, Yuzu comes back to Toronto, and he waits for Javi to follow.

He tries not to think about it that way. Not about the other thing either — how he puts a dark grey fleece beneath his winter coat every day, wearing it to warm up at the rink. No one notices, or if they do they don't say anything, but his whole body burns with the consciousness of walking in here wearing Javi’s clothes. The logo is small, black on grey, but if anyone looked closely they'd know.

Maybe he likes that. Maybe it's what he wants them to think, that he's wearing Javi’s pullover because Javi gave it to him. Maybe he just wants to bring something of Javi back here, soft armor wrapped around him, that faint faded scent at the collar. Just the hint of a memory, but something tangible to hold onto.

Yuzu’s rehabbing again, hard and painful, frustrating and _slow_, and this helps. One day he realizes Brian’s watching him during warmups, with a rueful, faraway look in his eye, and the heat flares up again in his body as he finishes a lap around the rink, stripping off the fleece. He thinks maybe Brian's always known what there is to know, but neither of them ever had the words to talk about it.

On a Monday in January, Yuzu hesitates, and then puts the pullover in his bag. A joke, a test, something more. If Javi mentions it, that will mean something. If Javi stays quiet, that will mean something else.

It's his, now. The rink, the fleece, the attention, the prestige. Yuzu's had more titles but they've always shared the spotlight here, and he liked that. He likes this too, though; being at the top alone. Coming into himself, the full flower of his career, unchallenged at the height of his powers.

But it's easy, the moment Javi arrives, to forget all that. Late, as always. The other skaters come crowding around as he laces up his skates, grinning up at them from the bench. Tracy’s wiping away tears in the background, and even the juniors who hardly knew him want to get close, so Yuzu waits, checking his own skates and then his phone, glancing over every so often.

His heart is pounding when Javi finally stands up, the people around him backing off to give him space. The rinkside clears, as everyone heads out to practice. Yuzu puts his phone back in his bag, casually, then turns around to face Javi.

But Javi just grins at him and steps out on the ice, like he wants Yuzu to chase him. He strokes across the rink with smooth, confident strides, like he's never been away. He loops around Joseph, gives a fist bump to Jason, reaches out to tousle Jun’s shaggy hair. Around and around, warming up, easing in; the returning oldest brother, the welcome son. Ghislain glides by to give him a friendly clasp on the shoulder, as Javi skates away.

Yuzu starts his own warm up routine instead. Easy, familiar, calming. They circle the rink, crossing paths, sweeping by, and Javi smiles every time, warm but silent, like he's keeping his distance for now. That’s fair, Yuzu realizes; he's done the same every time they've been reunited for as long as he can remember, taking his time to reestablish things between them. Javi probably thinks he's doing what Yuzu wants, respecting his space.

Brian coaches them separately today. Yuzu is still working up to full strength, testing his ankle, and Javi runs through last year’s free program before beginning work with David on the short. They've always needed different things, but today they’re in different places entirely. 

It’s all familiar, and Yuzu slips into it quickly. Javi’s not the only skater he has to maneuver around on the ice, but they’re in rhythm, orbiting each other. The morning passes quickly, and then he’s heading to the changing rooms for a shower, his mind already on the rest of the day, strength training and studying and dinner. He ends practice earlier than everyone else these days, trying not to overstrain his body, so he’s just finishing his shower when the others come in as a group. 

He doesn’t take his time getting dressed on purpose, at least not consciously. There are a few emails on his phone he wants to answer, and then he rearranges his skate bag, taking everything out and putting it all away carefully. One by one the others come out of the showers, dressing and leaving, and it feels like he’s holding his breath, waiting.

Maybe Javi’s taking his time, too. Or maybe he isn’t thinking about Yuzu at all. 

Yuzu knows he takes everything too seriously, reads signs where there are none. Still, his heart swoops when Javi finally comes out of the showers, towel wrapped around his waist, bare-chested and water droplets in his dark hair, meeting Yuzu with a bright smile. 

“Hey,” Javi says, nodding, and then goes to his old locker in the corner. “How are things going?”

“Good,” Yuzu says. 

“Your ankle is feeling better?”

_Sorry about your injury!_ Javi texted him, back in November, two days after it happened. _What bad luck. But I know that you’ll come back stronger than ever._

“It’s getting better,” Yuzu says. “How was your show?”

He can see a smile on Javi’s half-turned face, and then Javi starts to chatter as he dresses, going on about the cities and the crowds and the skaters on the tour. It wasn’t Javi’s first tour in Spain, but it seems like it was more special than before. He’s an Olympic medalist, acclaimed in a way he’s never been at home, and Yuzu can see how he lights up as he speaks, warm and excited.

Yuzu watches Javi talk, and he watches Javi dress, and then he reaches to put on the last piece of his own clothing.

“ — and Yuna, well. She’s very professional, but so kind,” Javi says, turning around, still buttoning his shirt. “You'd like her very much.”

“Yes,” Yuzu says. “I like her, when I meet her before.” _Neither of us would be here if she hadn’t left_, he doesn’t say.

(He’s always thought like that, paths and divergences, possibilities and other lives. Staying in Japan, moving to Colorado or Detroit, a career in baseball or medicine. Javi, escaping everyone’s notice and settling down to a quiet life in Madrid. So many ways they could have missed each other.)

“Are you walking out now?” Javi says. He picks up his bag and coat, tipping his head towards the door. 

Yuzu nods, reaching for the handle of his roller bag. His heart beats hard as he crosses the small room, coming closer. Javi’s smiling, waiting for him, and this is another one of those moments when anything could happen, life unfolding in so many possible directions.

“Have you,” Javi says, and then stops, blinking with a slight frown. His gaze drops, and Yuzu feels the sudden cold throb of blood all through his body, like the moment before he begins a competition. He takes a slow, shallow breath, stilling himself, and looks up at Javi, calm and waiting. 

“That’s mine,” Javi says. “…isn’t it?”

Yuzu makes a show of looking down, then up again, an eyebrow raised. “You left it here.”

Javi frowns harder. “Yeah, a long time ago. You — just found it now?”

This is more than Yuzu expected, Javi’s fierce interrogation, the two of them alone in the locker room. He always thought that Javi would laugh and ask for it back, not stare at him this way, with something new in his eyes. Unsettling, knowing, like he sees right through Yuzu.

“I find it a while ago,” Yuzu finally says, pushing his bag back and forth. “A long time.” He swallows. “I keep for you, you know, to give back. And then, not give back.”

Javi’s still looking at him. “You wear it?”

“Sometimes.” Yuzu opens his mouth, then pauses, breath caught in his throat. The last few years are racing through his mind, all the times he’s pulled on the fleece, how he’s felt wearing it, sleeping in it. They seem less like comfort now, more like transgression — like he’s been pretending something about Javi without permission. Not harmless or funny, but meaning something more than he let himself know.

He reaches slowly for the hem of the pullover. “You can have it back. I should not keep it. I’m sorry.”

Javi doesn’t say anything, but when Yuzu starts to pull the fleece up, he shakes his head. “No. You can keep it. I think — it’s yours now.” His voice sounds hesitant, wondering, but his expression is changing, a delighted smile sweeping across it. “You really wear it?”

“At home,” Yuzu says, defensively. “And — I bring to Pyeongchang. And Helsinki. It’s warm. And lucky, I think.”

“Lucky?” Javi asks. “Why lucky?”

He’s really smiling now, broad and glowing, and he’s _here_, finally and for a final time.

“Because it’s yours,” Yuzu says, the words surprising and inevitable.

A lot of things happen, and nothing at all. It feels like there’s the jolt of an earthquake, something hooking hard behind Yuzu’s heart, and then Javi reaches up and cups Yuzu’s face in his hand, warm palm on Yuzu’s cheek and fingers in his wet hair. 

“I never knew how you felt,” Javi says softly. “I wondered, but…”

He doesn’t finish, and Yuzu doesn’t let him. Yuzu lifts his chin, one hand still on the handle of his roller bag and clenches the other in the front of Javi’s coat as he kisses him, quick and hard. Almost seven years, and it feels like the impulse comes out of nowhere, a waiting lightning strike that’s always been there.

Yuzu gasps as he pulls away. He breathes hard in shock and satisfaction, like he’s dropped a heavy weight after lifting it, like he opened his eyes and the world was a different color. How could he have ever seen things in black and white?

Javi laughs, gently. His hand is still on Yuzu’s face. “OK?”

“I never knew,” Yuzu says, his breathing ragged. It’s not quite true, but it feels like it is. 

He’s close enough still to feel Javi’s smile as much as he sees it. “You wear my clothes in secret for three years but you never figure out that you want to kiss me?”

“Shut up,” Yuzu says, but he can’t help smiling back. “You knew?”

“That you stole my fleece? No, I thought that the janitor threw it away,” Javi says, with another laugh, so Yuzu has to kiss him again to make him stop. Close like this, Javi smells warm and familiar, clean and fresh and so, so good. Not like the pullover Yuzu kept all those years, and somehow that makes this more real, a bluff called in a game with stakes that were higher than Yuzu imagined.

Javi keeps his hand on Yuzu’s face, his other arm twining around Yuzu’s waist to hold him closer, and a tide rushes through Yuzu’s mind, full of things he never knew but he’s about to find out.


	2. and one of them leads to your heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter for today. Title from Roxette’s “Queen of Rain”

Javi yawns as he reaches across the bed for his glasses. It’s a purposeful yawn, loud and deliberate, trying to ease the tension of this moment of transition. He stretches, comfortably, and then settles back.

Beneath him, Yuzu yawns too, like it’s catching. “What time is it?”

“Getting late,” Javi says. He unfolds his glasses, putting them on as he lies back down. “Maybe you should call your mom.”

Yuzu grimaces. “It’s OK. I call a cab.”

That’s not what Javi meant, but he doesn’t say anything more, leaving it alone. He knows that Yuzu doesn’t ever go out by himself in Toronto, but maybe his mom knows where he is. It’s not the kind of thing Javi wants to ask about.

He lifts his hand instead, running the back of his fingers against Yuzu’s cheek, under the round curve of his chin. He’s always wanted to touch Yuzu like this, a fleeting intrusive thought he’s used to having every time he looks at him, and the skin there is as soft as he thought. “So. We finally did it.”

Yuzu’s smile is soft too, as he looks over with bright, sleepy eyes. “Finally?” 

“Come on,” Javi says. “This has been a long time coming.”

Yuzu just looks at him, still smiling. 

_Now what_, Javi doesn't say.

Now what is that they get on with the rest of their lives. Javi leaves for Minsk next week. They’ll see each other again in the summertime, maybe, for the next few years. Their paths will cross here and there. Everything that happened before now, the rivalry they’ve kept to a low simmer with kind words and meaningful touches, faded out last year in a blaze of glory and goodwill. Now there’s only the work they’ve put in, and the work ahead.

They keep looking at each other. Javi strokes Yuzu’s face again, drawing his fingertips deliberately down. Yuzu’s not really as soft as he looks, other than this one place. What’s between them isn’t as soft as it seems either; it’s absurd to have those six hard years feel so easy now, just a few turned pages in a longer book.

He thinks about Yuzu kneeling over him a little while ago, thighs solid and strong on either side of his head, under his hands. About Yuzu pushing past the tight circle of his lips, leaning forward, and Yuzu’s hot mouth on him the same way, at the other end of the bed. Pleasure, sharp and strong, deep and right. The rhythm they found, breaths and bodies in counterpoint, one making space as the other took it. 

Desire floods through him at the memory, heavy rolling heat, and he can see awareness of it in Yuzu’s dark eyes, as his hand stills against Yuzu’s cheek. Javi swallows, his breath short. He wants that again, and he thinks Yuzu does, too.

But.

“It’s late,” Javi says. 

He means more than the hour. It’s late for any of this, almost too late. Their last time away from everything; the watchful, wanting crowds in Japan or the strained pressure of competitions, the steady, purposefully dull life of training. It couldn’t have happened before now, but it can’t happen again, either. There isn’t really space, because they haven’t made it or because it just can’t be.

Javi smiles instead, making the moment easy again. He was never one for regrets. 

And after all, Yuzu understands. He’s always had his own life, different concerns but the same dreams, moving in tandem with Javi. Beneath the quick laughter, he’s ruthlessly practical, never lingering except on the things that really matter. 

Now Yuzu puts his own hand on Javi’s, drawing it down to his parted lips. He opens his mouth wider over Javi’s thumb, flicking his tongue against the pad of it, warm and wet, before closing with a lingering kiss. A shudder goes through Javi, remembering, and Yuzu smiles at him, folding Javi’s hand against his chest, over his heart. 

“Yeah, this was long time coming,” Yuzu says. “But I’m glad it finally happen.” He closes his eyes, lifting and holding his shoulders in a stretch before he opens his eyes again, letting go.

Javi watches him get up and dress, reaching for his phone to order the cab. It’s not the very last time they’ll be comfortable and companionable together, but probably the last time they’ll ever be alone. He can already feel the shift happening, their lives on fixed and separate courses, moving by small degrees in wildly different directions. This isn’t the only thing in his life that’s changing, or the most important, but something about it is central, fundamental, a part of who he’s been.

But they’ll carry this with them. And when Yuzu looks back, tossing his dark hair out of his eyes, Javi knows it was right, coming together like this before they drift gently and finally apart. Yuzu’s still looking at him, and there’s warmth in his expression, a thousand memories, paths never taken but all the choices that led them to this last moment. 

Outside the door, life is waiting for them both, but it can wait.

“Stay for a little while longer?” Javi asks, and doesn’t even realize he’s holding his breath until Yuzu nods, _yes_.


	3. (to become spring) you must accept the risk of winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the story earns its rating. Chapter title by Antoine du Saint-Exupéry.

“I can help,” Yuzu says, and everyone turns and looks at him.

January is scheduling hell at the club. All the national competitions are followed by Euros, with Four Continents right around the corner. The coaches are always scrambling to cover events while working with the skaters still in training, and this year seems even more complicated than most. Javi’s presence, while expected, has been the last and most difficult piece to coordinate, with everyone needed at different places around the world right when he comes to train. 

“I’ll just do a few run-throughs, and then I'm good,” Javi said this morning, but Tracy looked at him with concern and David laughed outright.

It hasn’t gone well. Javi’s quad jumps were slow to come back, and the first week Yuzu watched him fall over and over, cursing and trying again. He’s seen Javi struggle before, but never like this. 

Today Yuzu’s been warming up alone, circling the group of coaches in the middle of the rink where they’re deep in discussion. He finally speaks during a lull, and he can see the surprise in their expressions as they look up from the ice.

“I know Javi’s programs,” Yuzu says. “I watch, give him advice. It's no problem.”

Brian laughs now, as disbelieving as David. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. And you have your own work to do. We can handle it.”

“It’s no problem,” Yuzu insists. “He needs jump coach, and you guys having other competitions. I can help.”

There’s hesitation now, but he gets the sense they’re taking him seriously. As they should be — Yuzu knows this is a good idea, or he wouldn’t have suggested it.

“Well, it would help us out,” Brian says. He looks at Tracy, who shakes her head, demurring on making the decision. David and Ghislain are staring in different directions, and finally Brian looks at Javi. “It’s your call. You wanna work with Yuzu for a few days?”

Javi’s face is blank as he glances at Yuzu and then back at Brian. He shrugs. “Sure, whatever. I told you, I don’t really need anything but practice.”

“OK,” Brian says to Yuzu, tilting his head. He sounds surprised, still a little unsure. “I guess you guys can work together until I get back from St. John.”

Yuzu beams. It was his good idea, and they’re doing it. The group breaks up, transitioning into the practice session, and Javi skates off without looking back. After a moment Brian follows him, taking advantage of their last day together. They talk, and then Javi strokes out to the middle of the ice, beginning his turns into a quad sal.

Yuzu isn’t training jumps yet, and it’s getting pretty boring. Coaching someone else will be more fun than repetitive exercises, especially since it’s Javi.

He’s there early the next day, planning to spend some time on the club’s laptop watching film. Javi’s reusing old programs, and there are few things that have always bothered Yuzu, both in the choreography and in Javi’s execution of it. He goes and finds David first, launching into his suggestions for changes to the short program.

David doesn't let him finish before lifting his hand with a rueful smile. “Yuzu, it’s too late for this kind of thing. You know Javi doesn’t change on the fly. It’s more important for him to polish up what he already knows.”

Yuzu doesn't argue, but he isn't so sure. He folds his lips tightly, going back to the rink. Javi’s there, sitting on his usual bench lacing his skates quickly, and Yuzu approaches.

“Hey, you want to practice?”

Javi looks up, blinking sleepily. “Sure. Give me a minute to get warmed up.”

Yuzu laces his own skates, then gets onto the ice. He circles, switching one foot glides, waiting while Javi finishes his coffee and stretches before joining him.

“So, about your short program,” Yuzu says, coming to a stop.

Javi frowns. “What about it?”

“I thought — ”

“I thought you are going to watch me skate, and then give me feedback.”

“Yes — ”

“So let me skate first.”

Javi grins at him, surprising, then skates off to get his music in the queue. There are other students practicing here today but he must have priority, because the familiar guitar is strumming from the speakers by the time he gets back.

Yuzu watches him skate the Malagueña. It's a good program, and Javi does it well, but the principal choreographer wasn't a skater and it was done before the latest IJS revisions. When Javi finishes, Yuzu skates up to where he's bent over breathing hard, hands braced on his knees.

“You need more one-foot transitions before the jumps,” Yuzu says, without preamble.

“I have been doing this program for three years,” Javi says, looking up at him.

“This is better, with the new rules. More points.”

“Show me,” Javi says, straightening up.

Yuzu feels heat come into his face. “I can't do jumps now. You know that.”

“Hm, well, I guess I will keep doing it my way then,” Javi says, and skates off into another run through.

Yuzu has his own practice to do this morning so he does it, moving through the repetitive footwork exercises he's been doing for weeks. He watches Javi out of the corner of his eye, cataloguing mistakes, things Javi could sharpen up to compete better with the younger men. After almost seven years, he knows Javi’s skating as well as his own.

When they break for lunch, he tries again. “Your salchow looks good, but maybe a little underrotate?”

Javi’s bent over zipping up his bag, but he jerks his head to the side. “What?”

“The landing — ”

“The landing is fine.” Javi yanks the zipper shut. “I have jumped it a thousand times.”

“Well, maybe thousand and one time, not so good.”

Last season, when they were still in competition together, they didn't really talk. First it was Javi, suddenly withdrawn and serious, glancing over at Yuzu’s workout with a frown before returning to his own, and then it was Yuzu, aching to jump and biting back jealousy until he could. It was as though all the years before had been just play, and now they were getting down to the real work.

Things were better after Pyeongchang, like melting ice that took them through spring into the summer shows, until Yuzu felt like they were closer than they’d ever been by the end. He doesn’t know why they’re suddenly back here, but the hardness in Javi’s eyes is the same as that difficult time, when they were ignoring each other or silently struggling. Yuzu doesn’t understand it, when they aren’t rivals anymore and he’s only trying to help, but Javi just turns away, biting his lip.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Javi says.

They work hard and separately, the next day. Javi leaves before Yuzu’s finished, and Yuzu sits for a while after, thinking over his suggestions, before finally texting them to Javi. Even if he doesn't reply, Yuzu thinks Javi will be glad to have the extra input in the end, and anyway it's his job to help the best he can. Brian’s counting on him.

Javi doesn't reply.

The next day is Saturday, typically packed at the club. Yuzu almost never bothers coming in then, but Javi’s leaving for Minsk the day after tomorrow and Yuzu wants to clear up this strange hostility before he goes. Javi has to know that Yuzu’s intentions are good, and what's more, that he's right. Yuzu wants Javi to get this last gold medal as much as he does.

But things are the same, not helped by navigating the crowds on the ice. Yuzu can’t see him well, and whenever he tries to say something Javi can barely hear him, or acts like he can't. Yuzu finds himself getting more frustrated as the morning wears on, finally out of patience. He's never seen Javi be like this with anyone coaching him, not even in the early days, and it's a terrible ending to all their years together.

The worst of it is how much he’s been missing Javi, when he hasn’t even been able to tell Javi that since he came back. There are a hundred reasons why he can’t, but the tension of the last few days is making one of them even clearer. 

Yuzu can’t stop studying the strong lines of Javi’s body as he weaves across the ice, his arching back and widespread arms, the power of his legs and the curve of his neck. He’s always watched Javi, to learn and appreciate and for something more, too, simmering at the back of his mind. There's so _much_ between them, dangerous and complex, and it’s been easier to let it be warm affection, simple and bright. That's real, even if it’s not the whole story.

The crowds break and Yuzu finds himself skating in rhythm with Javi, stroking around the far turn. He smiles, slowing his stride to match, looking over his shoulder. Javi goes into an easy flying camel and Yuzu does too, rotating at what he knows is the same speed. It feels like breathing, natural and right, for several revolutions, and then he sees Javi break away and set up for a salchow.

It's the same problem as before, the landing not quite right. Probably within the quarter turn, but enough that it might get called under, and Yuzu can tell Javi knows because he jumps it again right away. This one is better, and Javi lands facing Yuzu. Their eyes meet, and Yuzu’s about to smile, approving, but Javi looks away quickly, frowning as he sets up again.

So that's how it is. 

Something about the way Javi is ignoring him sets Yuzu’s teeth suddenly on edge. His shoulders tense up, temper flaring, as he watches Javi jump again and again, struggling with the landing. He knows how to help, what Javi should do differently, but Javi seems to be staying deliberately away, letting the other skaters go between them. Javi’s never been like this with him before, and Yuzu can't decide if he wants to skate up and get in his face, demanding to know what’s changed, or turn his back forever.

Javi’s leaving in two days, and things will never be like this again, the close companionship of training together. If Javi wants to pick a fight but not finish it, Yuzu will.

He clenches his jaw and gets back to his own practice, in the meantime. The afternoon session slowly clears out, and he sees Javi get off the ice and sit on one of the benches, leaning over with his arms braced against his knees, breathing hard. Yuzu follows him.

“You're done?” Yuzu asks.

Javi shakes his head, flushed and sweaty. “No. I booked the rink for another hour, just for me. This is my last practice.”

“You want me to stay?” Yuzu asks.

Javi pauses, staring at the floor, and then shrugs. “If you want.”

They eat dinner in the cafe, separately. Javi’s absorbed in his phone and Yuzu stares out at the empty rink, the windows above dark now. He’s always loved the high ceilings here, the feeling of space and filtered light, like somewhere holy and sacred. The club is different at night, empty and dim, the fluorescent lights giving it a new character. He's rarely here this late, and things seem hushed and harsh at once, like staying up all night to finish schoolwork. It feels like anything could happen.

Yuzu’s skated as much as he's supposed to today, but he can't resist following Javi onto the empty rink. They've shared private practice time before but never like this, with no coaches watching, nobody but them gliding along, carving lines into the fresh ice. Javi glances over his shoulder and then practices a series of quads. He must be exhausted, after a full day of skating, and he's wobbly towards the end, stopping to rest.

“I think maybe, you practice as much as you can today,” Yuzu says, carefully.

From across the rink, Javi glares at him. “I paid for the full hour.”

“So what? You don't want injured, just because you're tired.”

“You're one to talk about injuries,” Javi says.

His tone isn't harsh, but Yuzu still feels the impact of his words. “What does that mean?”

Javi just shakes his head before skating off, into another imperfect jump. He doesn't look at Yuzu as he practices, but he does switch to spins and footwork, and Yuzu can tell he's taking it easy, conserving his energy. 

He's still beautiful to watch, and Yuzu can't help appreciating it through the frustration. There's a pounding tension in the air, an urgency he hasn't felt before, _last time last time_ echoing in his ears. Something is ending tonight, in this unaccustomed hour of solitude, and it's enough to break through the reserve Yuzu’s always kept, the compartmentalization of their lives.

Still. Skating has to come first. Yuzu tries to focus on Javi’s practice, amassing suggestions. This is what he's here to do. If he feels something else in Javi’s pointed refusal to look at him, and the way he’s been acting all week, that will have to wait for later.

Later comes when the hour is up and Javi staggers off the ice after one final, sloppy salchow. Yuzu slips on his own blade covers and goes down the hall to the changing room without looking back, leaving Javi to unlace his skates by the rink. Maybe he could use some time to cool off before they talk.

But there are footsteps behind him, and when Yuzu turns, Javi’s standing there, tanned face glistening and his shirt soaked through with sweat. Javi puts his hands on his hips.

“You left,” Javi says. “I thought you’re helping me with coaching.”

He says the words with sarcastic inflection, and Yuzu’s jaw clenches, hard. Any tenderness he felt a few minutes ago evaporates, and the angry frustration floods back, something solid between them.

“You look really tired,” Yuzu says, coldly. “And you don’t listen to coaching, so I thinking, why bother.”

“Maybe I would listen if you gave me good advice,” Javi shoots back. “Do you have any more suggestions?”

Yuzu rests a finger on his cheek, hand curled beneath his chin, pretending to think. “Watch your upper body, or you overrotate.”

Javi’s eyes go wide, a spark of fire coming into them, and his nostrils flare. “So now I’m doing everything wrong? You know what, go fuck yourself.”

Without a moment’s thought, and with years of pent-up tension blazing out, Yuzu snaps, “Fuck me yourself, coward.”

They stare at each other, breathing hard. Yuzu’s words echo like a slap, but Javi doesn’t move. Finally Yuzu exhales, angrily, and spins on one covered blade, stalking off to the showers.

He doesn't get far before there's a hand on his shoulder, yanking him back around. He feels Javi before he sees him, the heat of his body and the strength of his grip, heavy on his arm. Yuzu catches a flash of anger still in Javi’s eyes just before he comes closer, bringing his mouth down in a crushing kiss. 

Now it’s the heat of Javi’s mouth that he feels, and the prickly sharpness of Javi’s beard on his chin. Yuzu kisses back, instinctive, then pulls away and shoves Javi hard, both hands on his shoulders. Javi staggers back a step, clumsy on his skates, shock on his face. Yuzu follows, and takes one gasping breath before he grabs a fistful of Javi’s shirt, dragging him in again. 

It’s like arguing without words, the kiss furious and hard. They strain against each other, suspended, and then Yuzu takes the lead, taking a step back and pulling Javi with him.

They stumble across the room, kissing roughly, until his skate blade kicks the wall. Javi slams him up against it, all the weight of his body pressing in, and Yuzu winds his hand tighter in the sweaty fabric at Javi’s throat. Javi’s hands are on him, running down his sides and cupping his ass, bringing him close. Yuzu groans, clutching the back of Javi’s neck, and brings up one knee to hook around Javi’s hip. It tilts him up, and he opens his mouth as he pulls Javi back with him, fierce and hungry. Javi shoves his thigh up between Yuzu’s legs, pinning him against the wall. Yuzu teeters on one skate, but he spreads his legs wider, allowing Javi’s searching, impatient hand to find its way down. 

They never stop kissing, as they find sharp, poignant release against each other. Yuzu’s lips will be sore later, bruised and bitten, and he’s left marks on Javi’s shoulders, beneath the stretched-out neck of his shirt. He feels like he’s drowning, consumed by fire, the solid presence of Javi’s body his only anchor. 

After all these years it’s over so fast, desire tearing through them both, the final chapter of a story they’ve known forever. It had to happen this way, dressed and standing, rough and sudden, snapping through their better impulses to the raw quick at the center of them. It’s always been bodies and touch with them, a secret language, a world of half-spoken things. It ends and it begins here.

They linger, after. Faces buried in each other's shoulders, heated air cooling, pulses slowing. Yuzu’s hand is still tangled in Javi’s shirt, and he grips the back of Javi’s neck, just feeling the rise of Javi’s chest against his, the warmth of Javi’s breath.

Everything seems wide open now, unsure of what they are to each other. After all the years of carefully tended companionship, this was the violent break, the ugliness coming out at last when it mattered least. A finished chapter, closing off possibilities of what might have been.

Javi’s the one who lifts his head at last. He brings up his hand to cup Yuzu’s face, the gesture tender and familiar. His eyes are tender too, with mingled uncertainty and regret. 

“Yuzu,” he says, low.

They were so close last summer, Yuzu thinks, with a heavy sickness. He doesn't know what’s happened since, except maybe that was the end. Maybe these last few weeks have been too much, like lingering when you've already said goodbye.

He leans into Javi’s hand, looking up at him. Trying to say what he never can with his frustrating, inadequate English. “I like this, better than fighting.”

Javi closes his eyes. “I'm sorry,” he says, low, voice full of emotion. “I just — felt so much, being back here. A lot of old memories.”

Yuzu thinks of all the times they’ve struggled to be first, not just in competition. How everything he’s had has taken away from Javi, just a little. How everything Javi’s had has done the same to him. He swallows, hard, waiting for Javi to pull away now, finishing this.

But Javi whispers, “I think that I just didn’t want to say goodbye again,” and the heaviness in Yuzu turns light, melting like steam, as Javi rests against his temple, pressing a kiss there.

It feels like there’s a glow on the horizon, something new forged in those struggles, something they made together. They’re through the past, and they’re not who they were. If some paths are closed, there are so many more waiting.

They’ve always been generous with each other, and it’s a gift Yuzu can still give. He leans against Javi, eyes shut tight, like he can will him all the luck and strength he has. “You should go and win your last gold medal.”

Javi lifts his head, his dark eyes soft and serious. “It feels like I’m always leaving somewhere.”

“Yeah,” Yuzu says. He reaches up to touch Javi’s face, before he goes. “Me too.”

Days later, he gets the text he’s been waiting for, trying not to hope. _Maybe you give good advice about my salchow after all._

_Your landing was fine_, Yuzu answers. _You make it so many times, these judges are wrong._

_I don’t know,_ Javi texts back. _Maybe the thousand and one time wasn’t so good._

_Be perfect tomorrow_, Yuzu replies. _Show them who you are._

_I will._

Yuzu hesitates, only a moment. _And when you win, come back and show me._

_I will,_ Javi says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally saw the “go fuck yourself/fuck me yourself, coward” exchange on some texting meme account and couldn’t rest until I wrote it for them.


	4. no place to go but everywhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sweeter palate cleanser before the final chapter...and the most explicit one. :)
> 
> Chapter title from Dispatch’s “Only the Wild Ones”

Javi knows it’s coming, but he still didn’t expect Yuzu to move so fast. They’ve been grinning at each other all week at the club, irrepressible joy at being together again spilling over, even if they haven’t done more than touch in passing, brushing hands or squeezing shoulders. It feels like something’s been building up, waiting, but there’s still the skating and Javi knows how seriously Yuzu takes his training. It's an important time for Javi too; this final competition means more than he wants to admit.

But Saturday morning Yuzu texts, unexpectedly, _My mom is shopping all day, do you want to come over?_

Javi’s never been to Yuzu’s place. They’ve never hung out together outside of practice at all, even on the road, except that one time years ago. The text he sent Yuzu in November went unanswered; the last reply he has from Yuzu was in April, trying to arrange Javi’s taped appearance before they left it to their managers to coordinate. 

_Do you want to come over?_ like this is something normal, casual, instead of a momentous change. Still, Javi has never been one to overthink anything. _Sure_, he replies. _What time?_

The address Yuzu sends him turns out to be a nice but unremarkable building, a little farther from the club than Javi would have guessed. Maybe there are places nearby that Yuzu and his mom like, or maybe they wanted to make sure he’s never followed. There’s door security, where Javi’s name is already on file, and a glass elevator that Javi skips for the stairs. His coaches would say he needs the cardio, after months of taking it easy at shows.

Yuzu’s mom is just on her way out when Javi comes down the hall. She smiles as they draw closer; he doesn’t know her well but she’s a familiar face after all these years. “Good, Yuzu say he having company,” she says, shouldering her purse. “He needs break from studying. Have fun.”

Javi wonders, honestly, if Yuzu’s _ever_ had company here. It’s hard to imagine. “I’ll do my best,” he says, smiling back.

Yuzu looks surprised when he opens the door. “You’re early.”

“I’m on time,” Javi says, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

Yuzu twists his mouth, humorously. “That’s early for you. Come in.”

The house is clean and spare, not especially Japanese but with a few touches Javi notices. In the living room, snacks are set out on a low table in front of a futon couch; two bottles of water, with a bowl of fruit and some rice crackers on plates. Javi has to look down to hide a smile, trying to imagine Yuzu getting all this ready. Yuzu’s so self-contained, and he clearly only has to worry about his own needs most of the time. Maybe his mother helped.

Yuzu picks up a tangerine from the bowl and tosses it to Javi as he sits on the couch. “Here. If you didn’t have breakfast.”

In the winter, Javi’s coat pockets always bulge with his favorite fruit, scenting his fingers with that fresh, sour tang. He catches the bright orange ball from the air and sits down on the futon, digging his thumbnail into the waxy peel. “I had breakfast, but thank you.”

“You want to play games? Watch a movie?” Yuzu asks, picking up the remote.

“We can watch something,” Javi says, watching him. “Whatever you want.”

Yuzu frowns and brings up the TV menu. “There are some movies that we have. Or do you want something new.”

Javi watches him with a faint, amused smile. Yuzu looks so serious, scrolling through the display with the remote held out. “Whatever you want.”

After more skipping around, Yuzu finally puts on an American action movie with Japanese subtitles and sits on the couch. He reaches for for a bottle of water, uncaps it, and tips his head back to swallow. Javi’s seen him do that hundreds of times, but it feels like there's something different about it today; slow and showy, like he's aware of Javi’s attention. Or like maybe he wants it.

Javi sits back in the corner of the couch, still watching, and peels his tangerine. 

They don't talk a lot during the movie. Yuzu’s obviously already seen it before and Javi’s trying to follow the plot, not that there's much to pay attention to. He checks his phone a couple of times, but he can always see Yuzu looking over at him when he does, so eventually he puts it on the table and leaves it there.

“Sorry, this is boring for you?” Yuzu asks.

Javi shrugs. “If you like it. It's just, uh, a little loud?”

There's a silence, awkward for the first time, like they're both actually thinking about what they're doing. They don't _do_ this. Javi hasn't asked why they are today, because he thinks he knows, but he's still waiting to see what Yuzu has in mind. The way things always are with them.

Finally, Yuzu says, “Maybe — nature show? With animals?”

“Sure,” Javi says.

Neither of them really cares that much about animals, but that doesn't seem like the point. Yuzu finds something about Antarctica and then settles back in, more relaxed than before, taking up more space. He lets his legs fall apart, one knee lightly touching Javi’s thigh, and Javi smiles, recognizing the move. It's new but he likes this, watching Yuzu draw closer, decisive and determined. Javi stays where he is, waiting to see what happens next.

Yuzu comes even closer, as the show goes on. First he leans in until their shoulders are touching, and then Javi’s surprised to feel Yuzu’s hand sliding beneath his, palm up, lacing their fingers together. He looks over, but Yuzu’s still staring at the television, with a pretty good poker face except the faint smile at the corners of his mouth. Javi squeezes Yuzu’s hand, and Yuzu squeezes back, with a quick sidelong glance before he looks away again.

Javi rememberers this from Finland, back when they were so young and everything was new. Something on television and neither of them really watching, too aware of the growing heat between them, ready to take spark. They'd been flirting for months, ever since Yuzu had come to Toronto, and now for the first time they were alone together, away from everything. The sharp edge of possibility took shape between them, Yuzu’s hand on his leg, and it didn't take much for Javi to lean in, Yuzu’s challenging gaze on him all the way.

It felt incredible and electric and right, and they made out furiously for five minutes on Javi’s hotel bed, all eager kisses and awkward elbows, until Yuzu stopped it. Hands on Javi’s chest, breathing hard, his eyes glazed with desire but serious and fierce. “I can't. I want, but — I want skating more.”

He squeezed Javi’s shoulders. “Someday. We winning lots of medals first.”

So now they're watching TV together and holding hands, a place that Javi wasn't sure they'd ever get to again. There have been plenty of medals, and triumphs and despair for both of them, a lifetime in six years. Last winter they weren't even talking, and last summer they never stopped smiling. He's been waiting for a sign from Yuzu, and after all this time here it is. 

Javi watches the penguins on the screen, swimming sleekly through the ocean in pursuit of fish, and finally turns to kiss Yuzu, only to find him already moving in.

“Mm,” Javi says against Yuzu’s mouth, surprised.

For a moment it's just this, their lips pressed together, like they're both holding their breath. Then Yuzu begins to kiss him for real, with soft caressing motions, smooth and assured. He angles in, bringing up his hand to cup Javi’s face, and it makes Javi’s head spin because that’s _his_ move, the way he's always imagined kissing Yuzu whenever he got the chance again. 

He lets it happen, though, wanting to see where this goes. Wanting to know what it feels like to be wanted by Yuzu, to have all that brilliant focus turned on him. He knows what Yuzu’s like when he desires something, but not what he’s like when he desires some_one_.

And it’s like this — Yuzu keeps kissing him with small, firm kisses, his lips full and plush. He kisses like he’s saying something, his hand soft on Javi’s cheek, holding him close. Javi tucks his own hand around the curve of Yuzu’s neck, and Yuzu makes a pleased sound and kisses more insistently, leaning into it. His hand wanders lower, caressing the slope of Javi’s shoulder, fingers circling his upper arm and thumb rubbing the muscle there. Javi can’t help smiling, because he’s always thought Yuzu liked his arms and now he knows. 

“Mm,” he says again, happy now.

Yuzu keeps touching him, stroking his chest through his t-shirt. Javi feels warm all over, settled and content. Kissing is one of his favorite things, and it seems like Yuzu feels the same, the way he’s curled into Javi, focused on what he’s doing. Javi slides his hand up into Yuzu’s hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss, the mood intensifying for a moment, but Yuzu murmurs sharply and leans back, shaking his head out of Javi’s grasp. 

“Sorry,” Javi breathes, and moves his hand back down.

Yuzu kisses him again, the way he did before. Heated and intent, always in motion. He must like this, a teasing rhythm that takes all Javi’s attention to keep up, staying just short of the cresting passion he felt a moment ago. Maybe that’s how Yuzu wants it, or it’s all he’s comfortable with now, just getting to know each other in this new way. Javi settles back into it, enjoying the feel of Yuzu’s mouth on his and Yuzu’s touch, tracing over his ribs and the lines of muscle at his waist. They can take it slow.

It’s a shock when Yuzu trails his hand down lower and then drops, unerring, right between Javi’s legs. Javi bucks his hips up with a jerk, instinctive, and lets out a moan against Yuzu’s mouth. “Mm. Yuzu — we don't have to — ”

“OK?” Yuzu murmurs.

Javi’s track pants are thin and he can feel the warmth of Yuzu’s hand right through them, cupping him gently. He was already half-aroused, but he can feel the blood rushing in as Yuzu begins to caress him, fingers shifting, working in. Javi nods, and then dares to bite gently at Yuzu’s lower lip, closing over it. 

Yuzu bites him back, harder.

Being touched like this by Yuzu as they kiss is unreal. Yuzu is good at it, the way he draws his fingertips along Javi’s length, nails scratching lightly at the tip through the silky material of his track pants. Javi groans and spreads his legs wider without thinking. Yuzu slings one leg over Javi’s thigh, keeping him still, and pushes his knee up and in. Javi arches into it, the hard pressure driving a shock of heavy desire right through him.

They're kissing hot and open-mouthed now, tongues stroking firmly against each other. Yuzu draws his leg back, making space, and then reaches under Javi’s waistband, working down. Javi catches a gasped breath between kisses, the air hot and sweet before Yuzu closes in again, and he can't believe they're really doing this. His heart races, waiting for Yuzu to change his mind, to pull away, but instead Yuzu takes him in hand and strokes in earnest, slow and smooth.

“Oh,” Javi sighs, hips rising in rhythm with it. The pleasure is so sweet it's almost sickening, right in the middle of his gut. He pulls at Yuzu’s lip with his teeth again, wanting the kiss to be harder, rougher, anything to ground him in this moment and keep his head clear. He shifts, restless, and grips the back of Yuzu’s neck. “Yuzu. _Fuck_.”

He feels Yuzu smile again, and then squeeze tighter.

It was good before, but this is outrageous. Javi pants as Yuzu strokes him, steady and thorough, working him up. The rhythm is different than what he usually does on his own, and he can't help imagining Yuzu touching himself like this, slow and lingering, intense. He'd make a production of it, dragging it out as long as he could, head tipped back to show his throat, forehead shining with sweat, one graceful hand clutching the sheets below him.

Javi has to think of that, so he doesn’t wonder who else Yuzu might have done this with, all these years he's been waiting for it to finally happen again. 

It’s hell to stop, but he thinks of Yuzu’s mom coming back, catching them after they’ve been fooling around like teenagers. This isn't what he expected to come over here for. He puts his hand over Yuzu’s and breaks off the kiss, dropping their foreheads together. “Wait,” he breathes. “I don't wanna make a mess.”

Yuzu nods, withdrawing his hand. Javi is just pulling himself together for the conversation he knows they’ll have to have when Yuzu moves forward, knee swinging over to straddle Javi’s hips, and takes Javi’s face in both hands before he leans down to kiss him.

It's a total shock to find himself with a lap full of determined Yuzu. Javi first takes hold of Yuzu’s hips, and then wraps his arms around him, one hand pushing up under Yuzu’s shirt as they kiss, helpless to resist. He groans as Yuzu rocks down, feeling how hard he is, like touching Javi worked him up too. His hand wanders up and down the lines of Yuzu’s back, warm and powerful, and he loses himself in sharp, building pleasure for a minute before remembering it’s exactly what he was trying to stop.

“We gotta — ” Javi gasps, breaking away, just as Yuzu starts to slide down to the floor.

His fingers hook into Javi’s waistband, tugging as he goes, and Javi’s too dazed with arousal to do anything but lift his hips, letting Yuzu strip him down. Yuzu’s on his knees between Javi’s legs now, and Javi cradles his head and gapes down, as Yuzu gives him one last searing look before he leans in.

After that, it's a show. Yuzu doesn't blow him so much as use his mouth to get Javi sloppy wet, twisting his head to lick all over. Javi keens, low in his throat, hips rocking into Yuzu’s sweet hot mouth. He feels Yuzu laugh against him softly, reaching up to stroke him tight, and it’s suddenly too much. Javi only has time to gasp “Yuzu, _Yuzu_,” desperate and rising, and then Yuzu’s pushing up Javi’s shirt to let him come all over himself.

“Sorry,” Yuzu murmurs. “I know you say no mess.”

He hesitates a moment, then moves up, licking over Javi’s stomach and into the cuts of his hips, cleaning him up. It's astonishing to watch and Javi shivers beneath it, one hand buried in Yuzu’s silky black hair. Finally Yuzu kisses right below his navel and rests his head on his lap, sighing.

“That — that was good,” Javi says, still breathing hard. 

“Mm,” Yuzu says, nuzzling against him. Javi feels him smile. “Good.”

Javi lets his hand fall, curling around the back of Yuzu’s neck. He’s been waiting for this for years, but it’s still unreal, Yuzu lying warm against him and his heart still racing, lingering arousal pulsing through him. He rouses himself from his daze. “Come up here.”

Yuzu gets up and lies across the couch, leaning back against the throw cushions and throwing his legs over Javi’s lap with a cheeky grin. Javi hikes up his pants with a quick lift of his hips, turning to Yuzu with raised eyebrows. 

“Does your mom know that you kicked her out so you could fool around on the couch?”

Yuzu shrugs. He looks smug, eyes bright. “I have company.”

His sidelong smile is more of a smirk. Javi wants to cup his face, fingers stroking the softness of his cheek, and then trail down, over the lovely lines of his neck. 

“You planned this?” Javi asks, low. 

“Of course,” Yuzu says, immediately. “I don’t want to waste more time.”

Javi shakes his head, moving in. “Me neither.”

By the time he gets his mouth on Yuzu, kneeling up between his spread legs, the smirk is gone. Yuzu is writhing now, fingers digging into Javi’s shoulders, and he gasps sharply, tilting his head back on the wooden arm of the futon until he's facing the ceiling. “Javi,” he whines, just like Javi always imagined he would, desperate and demanding at once.

Javi doesn't answer, just works harder at what he's doing. He's kneeling in the small space left on the couch, hands braced under Yuzu’s bare thighs to hold them up, and he wants to make Yuzu come even harder than he did. He drinks in the sweet, whimpering sounds Yuzu makes, and the tight hold Yuzu has on him, clutching his head and a handful of his shirt. Fast and steady, that's how Javi likes to do it, and he can feel how Yuzu jumps and swells in his mouth, getting harder as it builds. For just a moment he has a jarring sense of the unreality of this, Yuzu pulling his hair and calling his name, and then it’s just them again, familiar and comfortable, the salty warm taste of Yuzu in his mouth like something he's always known.

Yuzu laughs, after. High and fond, his hand still curved around Javi’s neck, holding him close. “Now I know how this feels.”

He doesn't say anything else, but a glow goes through Javi. _I was the first._

Javi moves up the couch, arranging them so they're curled together. His ass is hanging off the cushion and he's perilously close to falling off, but he doesn't want to lose this moment, exhausted triumph mingled with a thrilling fondness, with so much is ahead of them.

It could have been good, if they’d done this in Finland, or it could have ruined everything. Now is as good a time as any, and maybe better.

He doesn't have anything more to say; his heart is too full. He just strokes his fingertips over Yuzu’s face, their heads pressed together, and loves every moment of it, like their lives together are finally beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re 2012 Finlandia, [the tickling gif](https://twitter.com/hopeiegacy/status/1030239596372582400?s=21) came across my Twitter timeline today and it just seems right to share it  



	5. kaze hikaru

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! I’ve been working on this section off and on since fall 2018, and it’s the closest to my heart and the deepest I’ve delved into Yuzu’s mind before. Hopefully it’s the happy ending everyone needs right now.
> 
> The subsection titles are taken from the 72 microseasons of the traditional Japanese calendar, and the chapter title translates literally as “shining wind,” the warm breeze of spring after a dark winter.

SUMMER SOLSTICE

“I think that we can make this work, next season,” Javi whispers into the tender curve of Yuzu’s neck. “Even though I'll be back in Spain.”

Yuzu, rousing from the deep waters of sleep, goes still in the morning dusk, held breath a heavy presence abiding in his chest. “Make what work?”

“Us,” Javi says, with a hot kiss against Yuzu’s bare shoulder. 

A beat, a breath. “What are you talking about,” Yuzu says.

It happened in Nagano, just a few weeks ago. Something broke, except it didn't feel broken, more like mended and complete. A light dawning, rose petals opening, still damp and half-furled, unaccustomed to the freedom of the air. This had been waiting for them, a distant place on the horizon, and when at last they arrived, they found a fire already burning and bright.

Since then, Yuzu hasn’t truly thought about it, caught up in the joyful whirl of shows and all the exuberant aftermath of his recovery and Olympic victory. New programs, new costumes, a thousand people to meet and thank, the ecstatic resumption of his life. He can't think about any of it, just exist in this flow of love, green and sustaining after his barren winter.

It felt good to touch, having gone so long without. Javi’s always been that for him, a well of strength beyond his own, given without reserve. Going to bed together was both new and known, a familiar view from a different angle. Yuzu drowned in heat, luxuriant. It’s been a good summer.

And now, the end.

He feels Javi go still and tense. “Next week, when the tour ends. I'm not going back to Toronto. I'm going home.”

“Yes,” Yuzu says. “I know.”

“But it doesn't have to…” Javi stops. “We can call. Text. I'll be at the club later in the season, to practice. Maybe you'll have competitions in Europe. We could — I _want_ to…”

“Want to what?” Yuzu asks.

Javi swallows. “This took a long time. I want to fight for it, now that we don't fight against each other.”

Yuzu shuts his eyes. Javi’s words are strange, strained through a film, like something from a distant land. “Javi...you not just going home. You will have, different life now. I'm still here. Same place, same life.”

“Yuzu,” Javi says, soft and pained. He moves back, withdrawing until they aren’t touching anymore.When Yuzu turns to look at him, those warm brown eyes are wide and so vulnerable it hurts. 

“I giving everything for skating,” Yuzu says, quietly. “I have, a little for family, for — responsibility.” He stumbles over the long word. “I can’t have, distraction. I thinking, you understand this.”

Emotions pass over Javi’s face like winds on a plain. Surprise, his brows lifting, and then a lingering, poignant moment that pierces through Yuzu as if it were his own heart squeezing tight. He never dreamed he could make Javi feel that way.

He waits for anger, or coldness, but it never comes. Javi looks at him instead with gentle, knowing compassion. Yuzu never knows how Javi does that, becomes so much older than him in a moment, and he never quite knows what Javi’s thinking, though it seems like it should be simple and clear.

“All right,” Javi says, at last. “That's what you want?”

Yuzu nods. It feels like there's something more here, something he should try to discover, but he doesn't have the words for it.

“All right,” Javi says, and moves away.

HAWKS LEARN TO FLY

The changes roll across the landscape of his life, altering the face of it. New names on the plaques above the rink, new faces below. It doesn't change him, because nothing does unless he lets it. Yuzu strives to be steady, because he knows who he is.

Still. There are slight irritations, rough places where the newness rubs up against his accustomed routines. His spot on the bench is taken one day, or the group session doesn't flow the way it always did. Things Javi understood without question, even if he didn't always go along with them. Everything is an adjustment.

Yuzu trains with the others, enjoying the company sometimes, but it's not the same. He misses the edge of the chase, and the moments of rest and equilibrium together, renewing them for the struggle. It was good, to fight alongside, and he doesn't think he’ll have that again. Yuzu never expected it to feel so heavy, to remain standing after vanquishing his older rivals, or that time would be the victor as much as he was.

He likes summer in Toronto. Green trees everywhere, long days, empty places as people leave for different waterfronts. Brian invites him to the lake house like always and Javi is in Canada for Brian’s charity show, the one Yuzu’s never done. He knows it’ll sell out without him, and that his presence would be like a collapsing supernova, bringing attention that even he can scarcely navigate. He arranges for an anonymous donation anyway, to assuage the twinge of guilt for the real reason he stays home. 

Yuzu doesn't want to see Javi, not so soon, not when he doesn't know what they are yet. Ex-training mates or ex-lovers, former rivals or old friends. All of them and none of them, intangible, insubstantial, in between. He’s finding out who he is now, on the other side of all they used to be. 

_I missed you in Muskoka_ Javi texts him, a week later. _Good luck with 4A._

Yuzu deletes all his texts by habit. Javi’s text disturbs the clean blankness of his screen, ugly plain letters taking up too much space, but Yuzu leaves it. He tells himself that one day he’ll answer, when he knows what to say.

And then training begins in earnest. The airy, sketchy framework of the programs they made last spring take weightier shape, clothed now in steps, transitions, flourishes of arm and head. They discuss jump order, combos, points, all filtered through the labyrinth of the latest scoring system. His old records are erased or enshrined, depending on how you look at it, and Yuzu has new heights to win.

And then there is the quad axel.

In a way, it's already an old friend; Yuzu’s long since jumped it in his dreams. Once he learned the triple, the quad has always seemed right there, that extra turn something solid he can almost touch. It's _his_, even more than the loop, because it's impossible. It wouldn't be worthwhile if it weren't.

He rarely falls. He skids, stumbles, underrotates and overrotates. Ugly landings and step outs, wobbles and pops. There's never a moment when it's perfected, never a day when he finally puts the struggle behind him for good. He feels the way he always does, like he's carving something out of a block of stone, smoothing away what he doesn’t need, learning the motions with his body, bone-deep. 

This is all he needs. The ice, the dream of applause. He's most alive in those moments when he's seen for himself, performing at his best.

For now, he puts in the work. Nothing is lost, nothing wasted. He builds and he gives and he draws from his own well, sustained by his own efforts. Yuzu himself is his only true rival, and his greatest struggle is to carry the weight of it. 

SWALLOWS LEAVE

Summer fades, lingering, then goes out like a candle. Yuzu travels to the Autumn Classic, closer to home now, with no real competition. He wins and he thinks of last year, how much he didn't know was ahead of him. 

(Winter, spring, summer. Pain, work, gold. Javi’s distance, and the way they drew close again, slow and hesitant, resistance giving way like a rush of melting snow. The heat of the season, the heat of their bodies in bed, Javi’s soft, hungry kisses as desire rose and receded and returned, a river in flood season. Parting.)

The rink is different, as it always is this time of year. The skaters come and go, an aura of seriousness in the air. This is the time for work, now. Everything begins to matter in autumn.

Yuzu finds himself staring blankly at the wall of flags one afternoon, letting his mind wander free in the middle of a hard practice. Bright red and yellow draws his gaze, and it’s like a sluice gate lifts, emotions he hardly recognizes sweeping through him. 

“All right?” Brian asks, skating by him.

“I just miss Javi,” Yuzu says, and the truth is hot on his tongue. He shuts his mouth against the rest of it.

Brian clucks, pleasure spreading pink across his face, and Yuzu already knows how he’ll tell the story to everyone he can. Brian’s always loved their closeness, even if he never knew how complicated it really was.

Yuzu misses that entwinement, the push-pull of it, wanting the best for Javi and still wanting to win. The jealous burn and the possessive pride, being so much to each other. Rivals with separate lives, the lantern on each other's horizon. Only they know how it was and what it meant. 

It could have been more all along, but he doesn't know how they ever would have made space for that. Dependence, intimacy, vulnerability. It isn't something Yuzu needs, and he’s never thought of it except to deny it to himself.

For an aching moment longer, though, he does. 

And then he brings his world into proper order again, his priorities clear. This, here, today, and then the next step. The next. Uncluttered black and white, like the pages of the notebook where he outlines his life. A balanced equation, the energies in harmony. He carries what he can, what he needs, and no more.

Yuzu turns and skates back into the center of the rink, his work waiting, and he knows Brian’s eyes are on him all the while. He doesn't know what Brian sees.

LESSER SNOW

The stupid, dull, mindless pain is what he hates most. Hates for its intrusion, its insistence, the way it demands a place in his life. Yuzu can fight any weakness in himself but this, a tender hurt he has to treat with care, where gentleness is required instead of the bludgeoning will he’d rather use to subdue it. _Rest, and wait for the new year._

He doesn’t know if he’s thinking of the pain in his body or his heart.

Javi sends him a message after his injury, no different than the torrent of others he receives, but one night in deep autumn Yuzu answers. _Thank you._ It opens something he wasn’t expecting, a window that casts light into his isolation. Javi answers him back, and there’s a flow of messages between them for the first time ever, shallow but sustaining. 

Last summer, they rarely spoke about their shadow life, those weeks of exuberant joy and tender stillness in hotel rooms and quiet places. This isn’t that, this steady trickle of safe images and simple words, but it feels like it paints the outline of what isn’t there. They’re careful around the unhealed absence of what they were before, what they briefly had. Yuzu lost something small and growing, or he gave it away, or he just never let it be, shut away in the dark. Somehow it's good to know it was real.

They share their secret Instagram accounts, Yuzu’s blank and anonymous, and for the first time he sees the fullness of Javi’s life without him. He can’t resist scrolling back, looking over the years of smiles and lights and drinks and dances, green places in Toronto he's never seen and sun-browned places in Spain he doesn’t recognize, beaches and trees, boats and bars. And people, always people, a dizzying variety of familiar and new faces, sharing it with Javi. 

Yuzu has never been sorry for the life he’s given up, because he’s so grateful for what he earned instead, but he understands now what Javi was asking for. What he imagined they might have. 

In the photos from last August, new faces appear, and Yuzu’s too proud to ask about them. Men, women, always leaning in close to Javi, sharing his space in a way that says they belong there. He knows that Spain is different, but he knows that _this_ is different. A hand on Javi’s shoulder, a tilted head, a smile. No one stays for long but the fact they're there at all means something, when they never were before.

_He waited for me, until last summer._

Yuzu didn't ask for that, he thinks. Never gave hope or a promise, not in those stolen moments or all the years of awareness before that. 

Javi’s messages to him are quick and encouraging, easy for him to send. Before, Yuzu has sometimes thought _everything is easy for him_, though he knew that wasn't fair. Leaving home alone, working three quads into his free skate, sharing his life with Yuzu. English, and the gentle way he smiled the first time Yuzu was above him, reaching up to touch his face. Yuzu has never known what in his own life is there by chance or by choice; he works hard for the things he wants, while Javi seems to float like a leaf in a stream, taking whatever comes with that same cheerful smile.

That's not fair. Javi’s worked, struggled, suffered. Maybe Yuzu has made some small part of that more difficult. But now, as Yuzu faces another winter of healing, of aches and impatience and restraint, he can't help looking in on Javi’s life, a warm, sustaining fire that he’s turned away from by no choice but his own.

WINTER SOLSTICE

Javi coming back to Toronto is so much quieter than Yuzu imagined. It should be loud, an explosion of color and life, but one moment it’s like any January morning at the rink and then Javi’s there, grinning with his skates slung over his shoulder. Brian follows right after, already telling a story about how late had Javi overslept when he came to pick him up, because Brian makes everything a story. Javi just grins, ducking his head as he sits to lace his skates.

“I watched your show,” Yuzu tells Javi, when he gets on the ice.

“Good,” Javi says. He sent the link a few days ago, a message Yuzu didn't want to respond to until he'd watched the full video. “Did you like it?”

Yuzu smiles. “It was very good.”

“Tell me about it later,” Javi says, gliding away. 

And like that, Javi is part of life at the club again. They don't have as many practice sessions together as they used to, but when they do it's easy to feel like nothing’s changed. It has, though; Javi’s different, the way he smiles and the way he stands apart sometimes, watching, like he's already on the outside. Like he's fixing it all in his memory.

Javi is still beautiful to watch on the ice, and it strikes Yuzu, forcefully, that these are their last days here together. He's gotten used to the way things are now, and this feels like the aberration instead, Javi suddenly present in so many ways. Occupying the edge of Yuzu’s consciousness, with his strong graceful jumps and the confidence of his movements, things that used to be just part of the landscape of Yuzu’s life. Everything about Javi feels like that, like something Yuzu always saw around before, keeping his eyes on the horizon.

He's been telling himself what he misses about last summer was only the ease and pleasure of those sleepy mornings together, a retreat from their real lives. Or else the way things used to be, rivals and companions, the old familiar amicable tension. But now he knows that the ache he feels is a yearning for what never was, all of these days together and more, greater than the sum. 

He burns, every time he sees Javi smiling at his phone. It could be anybody, his sister or a friend, but Yuzu can't help thinking back to a picture he saw at New Year’s, Javi kissing someone on a dark street corner under twinkling white lights. Yuzu thinks about having that intimacy again, or something like it, but he knows it wouldn't be the same. He's learned to want more, something he can't have.

It's strange now, that he thought it could be anything else. That he could open all this up as if it were something he could just taste, a place he could visit for a little while. Javi knew better than that, he thinks. 

Still, he wants to be near Javi, and it seems that Javi feels the same, in a quiet way that's different from before. Javi seems happy but focused, his mind on this last medal, something that has nothing to do with Yuzu at all. He smiles whenever he sees Yuzu, and sometimes they stop and talk on the ice or in the changing room, the words less important than making the connection.

“Are you looking forward to the summer?” Javi asks one day. They're sitting on opposite benches, lacing their shoes and packing up. “Going back home for the shows?”

Yuzu takes his time answering. “I'm not sure that I’m going. After Worlds…I don't know. We see, how everything is.”

Javi nods at him. “Your ankle is pretty bad?”

Last season, Javi knew how serious his injury really was, even though they never talked about it. In the summer he was gentle with Yuzu’s body, and Yuzu always felt the careful affection in his touches. He has a sudden memory of lying in bed one night after a show with his eyes shut, drowsing in comfort as Javi stroked him, pressing soft kisses to his mouth. The pleasure was sweet and winding, like climbing a set of circular stairs in some airy tower, and Yuzu just let go for a while, losing himself in their closeness, radiant and encompassing.

He shakes his head, blinking. “Yeah,” he says. No reason to be circumspect about his struggles anymore. “It's pretty bad.”

Javi makes an sympathetic face, pursing his lips. “I would say, don't push yourself too hard, but I know that you will.”

He stands up to go, dropping a hand on Yuzu’s shoulder as he goes. Yuzu looks up, a tremor going through him. It's good that Javi’s still comfortable touching him like this — they've always been close that way — but it aches, the way it isn't charged anymore, full of promise and hidden meaning.

“Javi,” Yuzu says, before he moves away.

There must be a sharpness in his voice, an urgency, because Javi stops and looks down. His hand is still on Yuzu’s shoulder, warm and heavy, and he raises his eyebrows a little, questioning.

Over the years, Yuzu’s gotten used to the force of Javi’s charm. He knows how Javi uses it when there's something he wants, or just to put people at ease, smoothing things around him. It's how he performs on the ice, too, asking for laughter and goodwill. He's always loved making Yuzu laugh, and that was their old dynamic, comfort and cheer.

Now Yuzu doesn't know what to do with Javi looking down at him like this, handsome and tender, solicitous and kind. He doesn't know how to read Javi anymore, and he doesn't know where they stand, or even what he wants, except for Javi not to go.

“I missed you,” Yuzu says, finally.

“Yeah,” Javi says. “Me too.”

“I think,” Yuzu says, and stops. _I think I made a mistake_, he almost says, except he didn't. Skating still matters the most in his life, and there isn't space for anything more. 

He says what he's feeling, instead, because that's true. “I think about you a lot. About last summer.”

Javi’s hand goes tighter on his shoulder. “Me too.”

They keep looking at each other, and Yuzu feels it draining away, all his certainty about himself, what he wants in life. This is temptation, hot and dangerous and so appealing, to do something that isn’t for his career or his country or anyone else.

“I don't miss just — sex,” Yuzu says, surprising himself. “I can have sex with anyone. I miss — ” 

Abruptly his words dry up, leaving him lost and dangling, awkward. It's not English that's the problem, but the part of him that can't say this in any language. What he misses, he can't have.

He looks up at Javi, though, feeling as though he’s taking something forbidden, lingering in this moment. His hand on Javi’s, and the warmth they share between them, and Javi looking at him so fondly, like he understands. Maybe he understands too much.

“Thank you,” Yuzu says, bluntly. “Not just for last summer. For always. I miss you here.”

“I know,” Javi says, gently. “Me too.” Something crosses his face then, and he doesn't look so serenely sympathetic anymore. “Maybe,” he says, and stops, pressing his lips together, like he’s holding words back. His dark eyes burn, and for the first time Yuzu thinks, _I hurt him_.

When Javi speaks again, he's more composed. “Think about Worlds. I know that's what matters the most to you. Everything else can wait.”

Javi squeezes his shoulder once more and goes, leaving Yuzu alone to wonder if he's broken something that can't be fixed.

RAINWATER

It takes Yuzu all morning, but he wants his video for Javi to be perfect. He writes the English words in his notebook, crossing out and rearranging until they say what he wants, and he works hard on the editing, adding the photo of them that Brian begged to take. It’s another piece of a larger story Brian loves to tell, their relationship and Brian’s place in it, these six years in Toronto together. Yuzu doesn’t mind, because he’s careful about the story he tells too. 

He hopes Javi will see the care he took, the truth in his words. _I will respect you forever_, he says at the end, and it sounds so simple in English, without the shades of meaning it would have in Japanese. Maybe Javi will hear them anyway.

Javi’s absence feels different than it did in the fall, more marked now he's come and gone. Yuzu watches him win gold in Minsk while lying in bed with the phone propped on his chest, landing each jump with him. He's glad Javi used old programs, not something new he learned while he was away; Yuzu knows every note and gesture as well as Javi does, and he's glad that for Javi’s final competition he can follow him like this.

Then it’s Yuzu’s turn.

Preparing for a competition is like descending in a diving bell. The world around him goes dark and distant, nothing getting inside except for what he needs. Rest and food and focus and work, all his determination on this one thing, making his body as whole as it can be. The days are hard and all the same, a straight line towards the horizon, back to Japan and back to gold. 

Last winter, he thought, _I’ll give away my happiness for victory_. Last summer he did it again, thinking he knew what it was he was sacrificing. Now he battles the creeping fear, arrowing through the disciplined transom of his thoughts, that he gave up too much. 

Work. Rest and work. Drawing in, tamping down frustration and joy, focusing on the fight. His own limitations the only opponent, watching himself on video and in the mirror, evaluating and perfecting. Knife-slim and sharp in body and mind, everything necessary and pure.

_I’m coming to Saitama_, Javi tells him in late March. _They want me to talk about you on TV._

Yuzu doesn’t answer, but Javi adds, _And I’m coming to the banquet after. I hope that I’ll see you there._

When he skates, he imagines Javi watching him on TV. Studying his performance, speaking about him. Maybe sharing a private memory, something no one knows outside the club, a funny story or a training secret. No, that’s not fair — they’ve always kept each other's secrets, and Javi’s upheld the burden of Yuzu’s privacy. Javi won’t say too much.

_I only ever see his back_, Javi told an interviewer recently. Yuzu doesn’t watch media when he’s preparing for competition but he watched that, Javi’s soft shining eyes as he followed Yuzu’s Olympic free skate on screen. It was filmed before Javi came back to Toronto, and Yuzu thinks maybe things would have gone differently if he’d seen it then. Maybe he would have known the words to ask Javi to stay without staying, to hear him, to wait. 

_The person I wanted to tell the most, in the best place_, Javi says in the video, and Yuzu doesn’t have space in his heart for this terrible tremulous mix of hope and regret, pulsing outward and taking him over.

Work. Work. Work.

_I’ll see you there_, he replies, days later, half asleep in the dark somewhere over the Pacific.

_Good luck_, Javi says, and Yuzu is too tired to think about what time it is in Spain, ahead or behind. _I know that you will do your best. I never told you how beautiful your new programs are._

Yuzu stares at the words on his screen, holding the phone close to his chest. For a moment, it's his again, this feeling of being seen by Javi for himself, nothing else.

SPRING EQUINOX

There’s no space once he gets to Saitama. Yuzu is who he always is on a stage like this, a man of the people. He belongs to them here, and he wants to make himself worthy of their support. His spirits are good and he laughs often, happy to be back where he belongs. His condition is less good, and this time he’s honest about it, with mixed motives. He wants his competitors to underestimate him, but also for his fans to understand if he can’t perform at his best, and for everyone to know how hard he works. So many factors to consider, so much to navigate, as always in his life. 

The short program is a disaster. He’s come back to surpass fallen rivals before, including Nathan himself, but it’s Helsinki two years ago that Yuzu keeps thinking about. Javi’s beautiful, assured short performance compared with Yuzu’s catastrophic one, flailing through a program he’d never gotten comfortable with. The bleakness of despair that night, facing a loss for the third year in a row. He hadn’t wished for Javi’s failure then, only for his own ascendence, but he knew how it felt to fall short and when they met after his victory he expected to see that same secret, gnawing rage in Javi’s face.

He didn't. Only pride, and chagrin, and love.

After practice the next day in Saitama, Yuzu lies on his bed, staring up at the phone in his hand. He doesn't text during competitions; he barely talks to his mother. He needs his head clear tonight, the diving bell close around him, the world held at bay.

_I hope that you're doing ok, I know that you’ll fight hard tomorrow_, Javi’s message says. He must be in a hotel in Japan now, near but impossibly far away.

_It’s so hard to fight without you_, Yuzu wants to say. _Everything is strange and I don't know how to do this alone._ He’s not without pressure, competitors to drive him on, but there's a warmth that's gone, a thrill, a quiet sustaining joy. 

No one’s ever given Javi real credit for his strength. Yuzu’s tried to make it clear, his regard of Javi as a respected rival, but he's seen the media, the way Javi gets painted as a kind teammate or inferior also-ran. They don't understand how Javi’s always been right at his heels, chasing him into greatness, pushing him forward by being great himself. How much Yuzu wanted that fight, how much he needed it.

But now Javi is being that kind teammate and Yuzu needs that too, he has to admit. He needs that external belief, so he can be hard on himself. He has thirty messages on his phone all supporting him, but somehow it's Javi he needs to hear this from the most.

_I'm OK. You're in Japan?_

_Yes_, Javi sends back right away. _Tomorrow I will talk about you on TV, and tonight I write an article about you. I could just do this for a living instead of the skating._

_Not if you waiting for last minute every time._

_I know you very well_, Javi says. _This is easy._

Yuzu should be resting, stretching, watching film. Thinking about tomorrow, visualizing the perfect program. Not smiling a slow, crooked smile as he replies, _What do you know about me?_

_You are the best_, Javi answers right away. _You are the best because you work so hard and because you care the most. You never give up until you get what you want. You love to skate more than anything and that’s why you are so good. You give everything to the ice because nothing else matters._

Line by line, the words come across Yuzu’s phone. He pushes his glasses up his nose and reads closely, studying the words. He’s not used to communicating with Javi this way, without looks and touches, only this language that belongs to neither of them.

_You don’t know me so well_, he finally types, slowly. 

_What did I get wrong?_

_I care for other things except skating._

Javi sends a laughing face. _This magazine only asked me to talk about skating. I think that they know about what you do for charity and Japan, don't worry._

Yuzu licks his lips. _Not just those things._

_Sorry, I know that there are important people in your life_, Javi says, after a pause. _I mean that you don’t let anything come between you and the skating. You are strong that way._

It feels like _strong_ is the only thing Yuzu has ever wanted to be. Strong in body, and a strong mind too, focused on his goals as he achieves them one by one.

_Sometimes it’s hard to be strong always_, Yuzu types, slowly, and he thinks back to last summer for the thousandth time, the heat and closeness and joy he felt. Being with Javi didn't feel like a weakness then, but like an indulgence he couldn’t have for long. Too piercingly sweet and consuming to be part of his life.

_I know_, Javi says. _But you are stronger than anyone I know. And tomorrow the world will see it. That’s the most important thing._

There’s something wrong here, something Javi’s misunderstanding and Yuzu can’t say. It’s the language, and typing instead of speaking, and the competition tomorrow, the horizon Yuzu can’t take his eyes away from long enough to think this through. 

_This season was very hard_, he types, slowly. _I told you, I miss you_

_Miss or missed?_

It's not like Javi to comment on his English, not these days, and after an irritated moment Yuzu realizes Javi's not correcting; he wants clarification. _Miss_, he says.

_You can’t have everything_, Javi says. Yuzu frowns at his phone, not sure if that’s meant lightly. Javi keeps typing, though. _If I was there now, maybe that’s too much distraction._

_No_, Yuzu types, and stops, frustrated. These words are hard enough to say, and worse to type in English, hunting for letters and remembering grammar. He bites his lip, and then settles on honesty. _I can't say like this. At the banquet on Sunday, we will talk?_

The moments while he's waiting for Javi to answer are terrible, his stomach clenched tight. Yuzu almost adds something more, explaining or equivocating, but then he sees Javi is typing again. _Of course. You need to rest and focus on tomorrow. You're going to do amazing._

He doesn’t know if Javi really understands, or is just humoring him, letting him down easy. _I will fight more hard with you there_, he says. _You’re important to me._

_You’re important to me too _, Javi says, and that’s what Yuzu has to carry with him.

DISTANT THUNDER

He loses. 

He’s not supposed to think like that anymore. A medal is a medal, especially on a bad ankle. He set a new world record, for a few minutes, and he surpassed everyone’s expectations, even his own from his lowest moments this winter, struggling to come back without the relentless hurtling drive of the Olympics ahead. Silver is a good result, something he can be proud of, facing his own obstacles and so many young, healthy competitors. 

Yuzu _is_ proud, and he knows that he lost.

_Congratulations_, Javi texts him, while he’s sitting backstage. _Beautiful quad loop. Don’t be too hard on yourself._

_I have been second place before, with you_, Yuzu says.

_I know_, Javi says. _That’s why I’m telling you._

Yuzu sends a kaomoji back, shrugging and resigned, and goes to face the media again.

Loss feels different when it’s only him. The world didn’t change when Javi retired, except Yuzu’s world did. He hasn’t been at a major competition without Javi in a long time, and the absence is palpable. No one to joke with him in line for the ceremony, taking his mind off the sting of second place; no one to remind him of the rest of his life, beyond being the disappointing hero of Japan. He's let down his country and himself, and he can't stop thinking it over that night.

_I was right, in Pyeongchang_, he sends. _I can’t do it without you._

It's three in the morning but Javi must be jet lagged, because he answers right away. _You did fine without me._

_No_, Yuzu types, and stops. This is like last night, when he couldn't put his feelings into words Javi would understand, let alone type them out. How training wasn't the same without someone there in front of him, challenging and pushing him. _I need a rival._

_You have a rival_

_I need you there_

_To be your rival? I don't think so_

Yuzu stares at his phone, not sure if Javi’s disagreeing or refusing. Before he can answer, Javi texts again. _Get some sleep. We will talk tomorrow, like we promised._

He puts on his serious public face for the banquet, the one that feels like his adult self. No high spirits, just nods and bows, as he meets with various sponsors and federation officials. This is the business aspect of skating, as important as anything else.

Beneath his suit his heart beats hard, waiting.

After a while someone brings him over to the Cricket table, and Javi’s there. Laughing, an arm slung over Raya’s shoulders, looking down at the phone in his other hand. Dark-haired and bearded, looking handsome and older in a cream colored sweater. He doesn't see Yuzu, and Yuzu stares, stricken with new understanding, seeing Javi’s familiar lines in this strange place.

_I want you even more than I need you_, he thinks.

Just wanting something for himself has never been enough. His wants have to be bigger than that, a whole country’s desires embodied in him, fierce goals and lofty dreams that make him more than he is alone. He wants to be better for everyone who's ever believed in him, for the sport, for the glory of victory itself, like the altar of some god he can lay himself before. It's selfish to want anything else.

But he does, and he has. This season, he wanted to live out childhood dreams in borrowed colors, a show of homage with a streak of pride beneath. Last summer he let himself luxuriate in warmth and affection, the admiring crowds every night and Javi’s fond touches afterwards. He gave up the one to keep the other, as if they were the same.

Javi looks up now, still smiling, and when Yuzu meets his eyes he knows that he ran, and that he's been running ever since. It’s easy to be admired and hard to be known, and Javi knows everything about him; his terrible selfishness and the way he’d give up the world to taste real glory, the kind that lasts. 

This could last. This _has_ lasted, in one way or another, for years, a quarter of his life. It’s quiet and not glorious, a story for them alone, something strong and beautiful and utterly necessary.

Javi holds out a hand, and Yuzu takes the seat next to him. Javi turns, tilting his head down, leaning in. His smile encompasses too much, knowing and wry, and Yuzu wants to take him by the collar and shake him, make him feel the same throbbing sense of titanic, world-rattling change that he does.

Not here. “I told you, I can’t do without you.”

Javi laughs softly, hardly more than a breath. “You did do it. You should be proud, after everything.”

“I know,” Yuzu says, and he can’t keep a whining note out of his voice, frustrated. “I understand. But I want more.” He stares up at Javi, serious and meaningful, and the laughing warmth of Javi’s eyes goes still and cool, understanding. “I need more.”

This close, he can feel Javi’s quick breath. “You know that I will be there for you always. Nobody wants to see you do well more than me.”

Yuzu shakes his head. Now he wants to touch Javi’s face, the way he could before. “I want more than that.” 

The words are tight in his chest, practiced and planned, and he hates that they're somewhere so crowded and public. He gave away his right to be alone with Javi, and instead they’re here in their shared world. Heightened attention and heightened emotions, lights and people all around them like it’s always been.

“I made a mistake, Javi.”

At that, Javi catches another breath, surprised. He leans back, tilting his head as he studies Yuzu’s face. He’s starting to smile again, though, a glow like a rising sun, and there’s an answering warmth stealing through Yuzu’s body, waiting for his reply. 

Javi moves in again suddenly, curving his arm around Yuzu’s shoulders, pulling him in. He drops his head against Yuzu’s, and Yuzu feels him smile, with a little breathless disbelieving laugh. Yuzu shuts his eyes.

“Can I come see you after this?” Javi asks, low, just between then.

Yuzu nods. He wants to take Javi by the collar again, but not to shake him now, just to keep him close. He can’t touch Javi like that here, but he rests his hand, briefly, over Javi’s heart. 

Then Javi moves away, leaving the table, crossing the room to talk to someone. Yuzu watches him pull his sweater down, straightening, and smooth a hand over his hair as he goes. It’s like the moment never happened, except everything has changed.

They come together and part throughout the evening, on the edge of each other's awareness. Photographs and smiles, one last sense of group feeling before everyone parts for the offseason. His ankle aches, in that dull heavy way that hasn’t ever really stopped for more than a year. He talks with Japanese friends, because he won’t be here for long; next week he’ll go back to Toronto, for more training and rehab. His life is impossibly full, but now he understands how it’s been empty, too.

It’s hours later, and no time at all, when Javi knocks on his door. Yuzu walks slow as he crosses the room, feeling like he’s holding back some great tide in himself, a crashing wall of water. He’s been so careful, all his life, channeling power and belief only into one place, and now he’s about to open the gates to something new.

His heart stops, clenching tight, when he sees Javi’s face. Warm and hopeful and knowing and unsure, with those kind laughing eyes and a smile that's Yuzu’s alone.

“Hi,” Javi says.

He pulls Javi into him once the door is shut, the way Javi did downstairs. Foreheads pressed together, eyes shut, breathing hard. Yuzu stands on his toes to do it, even though they’re not that different in height, because he wants to give everything, throwing himself into this the way he couldn’t before. Javi’s hands are on his waist, steady but restless, like he’s just waiting for a word.

“What do you want?” Javi whispers.

Yuzu kisses him. “You.” Javi kisses him back, and it feels like a high singing note begins to hum in Yuzu’s body, a vibration that only grows. “You. You.”

In bed he pulls Javi close again, closer, until he’s beneath him and they’re touching everywhere, Javi’s weight and solid warmth above a comfort and anchor. Javi kisses his face, his neck, his closed eyes, one hand brushing back his hair with such tenderness that the heat rises in Yuzu, eyes stinging with that familiar release of emotion. He catches at Javi’s hand and turns it, kissing his palm and folding his fingers down. 

His chest aches, as the tears seep from the corners of his eyes. This is too much, and everything he wanted. Yuzu steps forward, into the fire, and lets it take him.

Javi nuzzles at his ear, breathing soft. His thumb sweeps over Yuzu’s cheek, finding the traces of tears there. He lifts up, pressing his lips to Yuzu’s temple, and some small tension draws tight between them. 

“This isn’t just because you got second place, is it?” 

Javi’s being funny, but not really; there’s always a sharp black depth to his jokes, a blunt truth that Yuzu appreciates. Yuzu doesn’t tease back now, just shakes his head, bringing his hand up to cover Javi’s, resting on the side of his face. 

“Crying is for you. Because — so happy that you’re here.”

Javi nods a little, kissing his temple again, but there’s still tension in his body. “Happy…just for tonight?”

Now Yuzu turns, lifting his eyes. “Happy that I can fix my mistake.”

“I don't think that I've ever heard you say that before,” Javi says. “That you made a mistake.”

He looks pleased, and Yuzu thinks maybe Javi wouldn't have come if he hadn't used those words. He can't go into this without a clear understanding, though, and he nerves himself to try to explain.

“I should have ask for you to wait,” he says. “Last summer. I can't be with you then, but I have….more stronger feelings than I'm saying. I think, maybe I don’t know it then. But I should have said — more.”

Javi looks serious now, stroking Yuzu’s cheek with his thumb. “I waited,” he murmurs. “In my heart, I waited.”

Yuzu knows what he’s saying, and in a way it doesn't matter what happened with those smiling men and close-leaning women in his pictures back home. If Yuzu has kept a pure heart for skating alone, Javi has always had a different life.

“I want you,” Yuzu says, low and rough. He reaches up, feeling the strength of Javi’s neck and shoulders beneath his covetous hands, as he pulls Javi closer. “All of you,” he says, against Javi's hair. 

“I want that too,” Javi says, into his neck.

Yuzu breathes deep, aware he isn't offering the same thing in return. There's too much of him in too many places, spread thin and wide; too many people who need him and too much he needs to keep for himself. “I give you everything I can,” he whispers.

He feels Javi nod, pressing a kiss to the hollow of his collarbone. “I only want you to try your best.” Javi kisses him again, and speaks lower, hardly more than a breath. “For me.”

And that was it, his deepest sin, his great mistake. Yuzu’s never been shy of trying for the things he wants before, except for with this towering, difficult thing he wants so fiercely, a soap bubble dream of exquisite shifting beauty, a golden puzzle box and a bent, deep-rooted tree. The hope of happiness together, one true thread in all possible worlds.

Yuzu lifts his head, pressing their foreheads together. “I will try. More than try. I will _do_,” he says. “Because you are important.”

After that, it's everything it was before, the heat and the closeness, blurring together as one. Pleasure, but more than that, intimacy; soft whispers and joyful, seeking touches. Yuzu takes what was always his, but he gives himself up, too, letting himself be seen, known.

“Yes,” he breathes, and then louder, “yes — yes — yes.”

And Javi is here, present, with deep devouring kisses and his mouth lingering after, sharing breath. Yuzu holds tight, feeling honey in his body and a drowsy lightness in his heart. The desire is so strong, and every ache is satisfied, the longing of the last year. He needs this, more strongly than he can say, more truly than he's ever known. 

They move through it all, the urgency and bared skin, the breathless shared chase, the moment of abandon and communion, finding each other through losing themselves. It was easy last summer, warm and simple, when they were still familiar with each other. Now Yuzu touches Javi’s face and it's like a beloved stranger, someone known from afar, the shock of newness on everything they do. But Javi knows him, the workings of his body, and he catches every gasp with a kiss, like he's saving Yuzu from a fall.

“My heart,” Javi murmurs after, as their breath slows, and for the moment, it’s all Yuzu wants to be.

A lifetime later, Yuzu rouses himself. Javi’s half asleep on the pillow next to him, and Yuzu strokes his face, feeling the dampness of his skin and the lines around his eyes. It’s like a dream, a memory of last summer, here in the trembling newness of spring. 

“You're still here,” he says, and Javi opens his eyes to smile at him, a teasing crinkle. “I mean, with me. I always think about — maybe I lose you. Like…” He pauses, thinking of the words, how to explain. “Like if I thinking about it first, I take away some pain. Like maybe if it happening, won’t hurt so much.”

Javi reaches out to cup his cheek, smile fading. His eyes are serious, and Yuzu realizes what he said, how much of himself he gave away. 

“You didn't lose me, but still I was gone,” Javi says softly, thumb stroking. “I can’t take that back. I’m sorry if it hurt you, but I had to go.”

Yuzu swallows. “I didn't let it hurt. I thinking, only of my skating, get better. I'm sorry for being selfish.”

“You aren't,” Javi says. “Or I don't know, maybe it's OK. We all have to be a little selfish.”

“I'm a lot selfish.”

Javi smiles again. “OK, a lot selfish. I didn't want you to be sad,” he adds, softer.

“Were you sad?”

Javi shakes his head, after a pause. “I didn't let myself be sad.”

They're both speaking truth, but carefully, veiled and ornamented, drawing a hand through the painful brushstrokes of the last year. The first one they've lived apart in a long while, and maybe they needed that, Yuzu thinks. To be happy and to hurt alone, learning how to be without always drawing from the other’s well.

“I think that we can make this work,” Yuzu says, slowly. 

“Us?” Javi asks.

“I want to make it work,” Yuzu says. “I don’t know — if wanting is enough.”

“Sometimes,” Javi says. His hand is still on Yuzu’s face, and he strokes down, over his neck. “Sometimes not. But you — you always make it work. You want so hard. You dream so big.”

“I need it to be big enough for both of us,” Yuzu whispers.

Javi smiles. “Then we work for it together.”

**Author's Note:**

> http://sophia-helix.tumblr.com


End file.
